A Song of Ice, Fire, and Hope
by Metaleaf
Summary: 5 years following the war to end all wars, the world finally knows peace. On Bruce Wayne's deathbed, Superman is urged to find peace in himself after tragedy. With nothing to lose, he activates Bruce's gateway, sending him on a one-way trip to the world of Ice and Fire.


_50 years following the formation of the Justice League, the world finally knows peace. On Bruce Wayne's deathbed, Superman is urged to find peace in himself after tragedy. With nothing to lose, he activates Bruce's gateway, sending him on a one-way trip to the world of Ice and Fire. _

**Chapter 1: Now it Begins**

16th May 2027

Wayne Manor was truly a sight to behold. Built in the 19th century by the illustriously wealthy Wayne family, it had stood the test of time, surviving the American Civil War and lengthy periods of prohibition and depression in America's history. The old, mock-Gothic archways spanning the entrance hall and the cloisters near the stables were a stark contrast to the ever-evolving scenery of Gotham City.

The Wayne family had prospered throughout America's history. Originally borne out of old money from England, they successfully pioneered railway travel throughout the country, although their greatest success came in the 20th century, when Patrick Wayne helped develop advanced weaponry to arm America's armies in their fight against the Axis forces in World War II.

However, despite their great wealth, tragedy seemed to beset the Wayne family throughout the generations, culminating in Bruce Wayne being the sole inheritor of the vast inheritance. Following the death of his mother and father at a young age, as well as becoming a lifelong bachelor following the death of his only love, Selina Kyle, to the brutal criminal underworld, he evolved into the masked vigilante, Batman, aiding the various governments around the world in a bid to usher in peace- a concept Bruce was painfully aware to be nigh impossible.

Yet an unforeseen enigma revealed itself once he had all but given up hope.

Superman.

Kal-El.

Or as Bruce came to know him, Clark Kent.

If there was anyone who had suffered more than Bruce, it was Clark. The sole survivor of his race from the planet Krypton, Clark could be considered a genuine American if he had to be sorted into a specific country. Raised in Kansas by the Kents and taught values Bruce could see no fault in, they quickly grew to become the best of friends and closest allies in their goal to achieve peace. The two did achieve their goal, but not after great personal loss. Bruce, having lost Selina due to her relationship to the Gotham billionaire, comforted Clark as he held his pregnant, dying wife, Lois Lane, in his arms, following the Battle for Metropolis.

Finally defeating their great arch-nemesis Lex Luthor came at the highest cost; forced to choose between stopping Luthor and Metropolis or saving his beloved, Clark's best efforts to get to Lois were for naught. After defeating Luthor for the last time, even Superman's gift of hypersonic flight was not enough to save Lois. Trapped in Luthor's final bunker in the deep Antarctic, she had succumbed to frostbite, but not before speaking to Clark her final words.

"Don't grieve after me, Clark. Be happy. You deserve to be."

A man seemingly indomitable was rendered inconsolable, cursing and screaming to the heavens. Holding Lois' body close to his arms as she exhaled for the last time, he was now a hollow husk of the symbol of hope he once was. Bruce found him as he made his way down to Antarctica himself, unable to keep up with Superman's raw speed, but once arriving the sight tore into him all the same. Alone, he consoled Clark in the cold, desolate wastes.

Soon after, the governments of the world ceased independent arms production; uniting under one banner, headquartered in the recovering ruins of Metropolis in the old headquarters of the United Nations, Bruce and Clark had achieved their ultimate goal at the greatest cost; not their lives, but the lives of those closest to them.

* * *

The soft echoes of footsteps permeated down the corridor from his room. His doctors finally giving him the peace of his own company, he gazed over downtown Gotham.

Bruce had few regrets.

His battle with Lex had left him with days to live; 5 years following the final battle, Lex's gamma ray had taken its toll on Bruce's body. Uncontrollable tumors grew in his organs, leaving him bedridden. Chemotherapy wasn't possible due to the sheer number of growths.

However, Bruce considered himself lucky. He had an anchor that kept him sane in the years following the death of Selina and throughout Luthor's rampage; his adopted daughter, Kelly Wayne. His only adopted child, she had grown up in an orphanage in Arkham before being taken in by Bruce at the age of 10. He kept his secret life from her, ensuring that she had the childhood he never had. Her dark, brown eyes and dark, auburn hair reminded him almost too much of Selina.

A selfish gesture to take her in and not someone else? Perhaps. But Bruce deserved it.

If he had to do it all again, he wouldn't change a thing. He knew that of himself.

But Clark was a different case.

He had lost _everything_. Whereas Bruce knew he was soon to perish, Clark was blessed and cursed with his Kryptonian physiology. Aging at a far slower rate due to the strength of the yellow sun beaming down on Earth, his body was permanently altered due to a lifetime of exposure to it. His body now held the strength gained from the yellow sun permanently; travelling through the cosmos to weaker stars would not alter him. Despite being 66 years of age in human years, Clark had the body of a 24-year-old, having stopped aging in the 1980s.

As Bruce attempted to fall asleep, his mind ticked. He knew he had to do something for Clark.

Despite his body failing, Bruce's mind had only grown sharper. Devoting his time to studying Quantum physics during his early 20s coupled with his nigh-inexhaustible wealth, as well as plenty of free time led to many inventions, most of which he was happy to profit from.

Except one.

Up until now, there was little reason to use it. The risks to the human body were too great, the outcome uncertain.

But Clark was not human.

Pulling his sheets to one side, he grabbed his cane and opened the door. Making his way down the corridor, he hobbled towards the lift. Once inside, he took a key from his dressing gown and inserted it into the hidden keyhole below disguised beneath the 7th floor button.

_"__Confirmation is required", _a cultured, cockney-accented male voice intoned through the speakers.

Bruce grimaced; Alfred had retired years ago, and his voice used for all other commands in the mansion were replaced with a generic British woman's accent.

All commands except those concerning the Batcave.

In the clearest voice he could muster, he uttered the passcode.

"Martha".

"_Confirmation granted. Welcome back, Master Wayne". _

As the lift made its way down into the chambers below the mansion, he reached into his other pocket, taking out a pager.

He stared at the single, solitary button emblazoned with red, blue and gold shaped into an _S_, and pressed.

* * *

It was another ordinary Tuesday evening. In an apartment in downtown Metropolis, Clark was sprawled out over the couch. Wearing plain black jeans and a form fitting white tee, he flicked through the channels on the television, nothing able to alleviate his boredom. The beer in his hand was just for the taste, his unique physiology preventing himself from getting drunk. He had tried- many times.

Bruce was dying, and there was nothing Clark could do about it. Death was the only thing he could not prevent from coming for the beings of Earth, despite all the superhuman powers he was gifted with.

Even if he could control death, would he?

Thoughts of Lois drifted through his mind.

Her smile that stretched from ear to ear when she tussled with his hair during those long summer nights.

Her laugh that echoed through Central Park when he told those horrible, corny jokes he learned in Kansas.

Her cold, still body, laying in his arms as she drew her last breath.

Clark shuddered, shaking himself out of his morbid thoughts. Even after all these years, she held him accountable to all his actions and intruded into every thought.

The couch creaked as his 250-pound frame of raw, refined bulk eased itself off, Clark getting up to go to the fridge to grab another cold one. His fingers brushing the aluminum handle, he grabbed another bottle, expertly flicking the cap off with his thumb, the cap landing on Clark's Tower of the Gods as he called it; his own architectural take on the Leaning Tower of Pisa, except made out of beer caps. The 107th cap twirled and wobbled, before settling itself on its predecessors. Smiling, Clark strolled back to the couch.

However, just before he sat back down, a loud, unfamiliar beeping sound went off. Reflexes in full force, his eyes narrowed as he hurled his now open beer bottle full force at the source of the sound, missing it by an inch as the bottle crashed into the wall, clean through it and into the flat next door.

And the next.

And the next.

Realizing what he had done, he groaned, slapping himself before slowly peering down through the perfect, cylindrical hole left by the mercurial beer bottle, meeting multiple pairs of eyes staring down in his direction, all covered in a glistening, golden sheen of fresh beverage. A sheepish grin, with his hand scratching the back of his head was his only response, before he heard the scrambling of their footsteps, no doubt to get their phones to alert the authorities.

He glanced over the room, looking for the source of the earlier sound, and cursed under his breath. His Tower of the Gods had crumbled, shaken by the impact of the bottle flying through the wall less than a foot away. All 107 caps sprawled across the floor, never to be assembled again.

Locating the source of the sound, he realized it was a pager Bruce had given him a couple months back once his diagnosis was made public to Clark. He picked the pager up and pressed the single button.

The beeping stopped, and Clark breathed a sigh of relief.

Instead, the pager started blaring Starlight, by The Supermen Lovers.

Bruce's signal that his time was nearly up. Curse him for choosing such a cheerful song to mark his passing!

Walking to the window, Clark looked back to his room, unable to think that this would be the last time he would see this room. Gazing into his wardrobe, the suit he was once proud to wear sat gathering dust. The symbol of his house placed over the chest had lost its red glow, its meaning lost to the world. Unseen following the Battle for Metropolis, the Legend of Superman was still firmly entrenched in the hearts and minds of the people. Taking it out of the wardrobe, he quickly burned it with his heat vision, careful to not accidentally set the entire building on fire, before walking towards the window once again.

Sighing, he closed his eyes, before slowly leaning over and dropping from his windowsill. His 57th floor apartment gave him some time in freefall, an action he found amusing to the horror of bystanders below him, not recognizing who it was.

Just feet from the ground, his deep, blue eyes snapped open, propelling himself upwards into the night sky. Horror turned into excitement, and noise grew in the streets as the news of a flying man once again spread after all these years. Paying no attention to them, Clark quickly accelerated as water condensed around his form, vaporizing as he broke through the sound barrier once clear of Metropolis airspace. As his eyes glazed over the rapidly dwindling night-sky of the city he had come to know as home, he looked forward, never once looking back.

* * *

Leaving the key in the 7th floor button, Bruce flicked the switches to his right. The floodlights lit up the Batcave once again after years of absence, the constant stream of water below the platform gushing in from the natural waterfall just outside, flowing through the cave.

Walking across the passageway with returning familiarity, he walked straight pass the command center where he and Alfred spent thousands of hours monitoring and acting on distress signals throughout the country, with occasional visits from Clark if the threat was dire enough.

All down the passageway Bruce had his various batsuits on display in glass cases. His pride and joy. All of them had different uses, but now were simple relics of a war-torn past.

He stopped at the end of the passageway in front of a plain-looking door, its sole discerning feature being the Omega symbol carved above the handle, discreet enough to go unnoticed by those not looking.

As he reached for the handle, a gust of wind blew through the cave. To most, it was a calm, refreshing summer breeze. But Bruce knew better.

"You left the key in the lift", Clarke stated in a matter-of-fact manner.

Turning around, he gazed his eyes at his oldest and best friend. Unblemished skin, his impressive physique, and his startlingly clear blue eyes were clear to all, but Bruce was most focused on the small smile on Clark's face.

"I know".

Hand still on the handle, he turned and pushed, walking through. Clark followed wordlessly, curious to see what Bruce had hidden from him all these years. The door was left opened.

"Travelled light I see", Bruce stated back in the same matter-of-fact tone.

"I may have caused a slight scene. Needed to be quick".

Bruce raised his eyebrows, before reaching the command table in the middle of the room.

The Omega Chamber was impressive even for Bruce's standards. State of the art equipment was plastered to the walls, with thousands of knobs and small screens littering their view. Built in the 1990s during Bruce's foray into Quantum theory, it certainly fit the era's aesthetic. The technology present, however, was far superior to anything mankind had built, even 30 years later.

Clark looked at the command table. There were numerous knobs and handles, but three stuck out the most. The first was a blue switch to the right of the table, double the size of the other, smaller red and white ones around it. The second was the large, steel lever in the middle.

The third, however, struck a chord in Clark's heart, and he picked the old photo frame up. Inside was a photo of Clark, Lois, Bruce and Selina during one of their first holidays together all those years ago- a simple fishing trip to Lake Michigan on one of Bruce's sailing boats. Clark was posing with a ridiculously large catfish he'd caught raised above his head, face triumphant in his conquest. Lois was rolling her eyes and Selina was laughing, whilst Bruce had a wry smile on his face with the wheel in one hand and a beer in the other.

A ghost of a smile made it onto Clark's face. He looked back at Bruce, before he settled it back down onto the tabletop.

Bruce flicked a switch to the right, and the closest screen near him fizzed and flickered for a few seconds, before eventually settling on the local cable news channel.

"_…__and we have unconfirmed reports that a figure was seen flying over the skies of Metropolis towards Gotham. Jerry, do you think this could finally be the return of Super-." _

Clark abruptly flicked the switch, causing the screen to flicker out.

"A slight scene, eh?"

Clark only scowled at Bruce, smirk on the latter's face, before his eyes softened.

"I don't deserve to be called that. Not after that day".

Bruce sighed softly. Even after all this time, Clark still mourned for Lois.

He caught Clark's gaze with his own, his eyes conveying sympathy. He turned back to the command table, before pointing at the raised platform in front of it. A silver sheen reflected off the smooth, metallic surface, with an inch-thick cylindrical glass chamber raised above the platform.

"That is my greatest and worst creation, Clark. A machine capable of things we consider impossible, yet also impossible for us to harness."

Clark looked on intensely, urging Bruce to continue.

"I call it the Omega Gateway. It has limitless possibilities, able to teleport us to worlds only encountered in our imaginations. Worlds filled with nothing but war, and nothing but peace. Nothing but the raw expanse of a vast ocean or a great forest stretching beyond even your eyesight, Clark. Truly limitless possibilities."

"I sense a but coming along here." Smile gone; Clark's face expected an explanation.

"Mankind was destined for greatness. Armed with the smartest mind on this planet, we established ourselves as the greatest organism the planet had ever seen, created inventions each previous generation thought to be impossible. Unfortunately, Quantum physics doesn't care. The transfer of anything organic through the gateway would only result in destruction of itself. Anything from this planet, that is. Until recently, I was convinced that I would take this secret to the grave."

Clark's eyes slowly widened in realization. He slowly looked up from Bruce, staring at the platform.

"Clark, you've done everything for this world. You've given these people hope. No man should be expected to suffer what you have and yet be expected to deliver more. You are the only man I know who can not only survive the process, but the only man who deserves to."

"I am no man".

A smile made it across Bruce's face, before a wracking cough took hold of him. His hand raising to cover his mouth, he dropped his cane and tumbled to the cold, stone floor. Clark caught him before he hit the ground, lifting and placing him tenderly into the command chair.

Bruce looked at his hand, grimacing at the sight of his blood. He shared a knowing glance with Clark.

"Don't do this on the dying wish of an old man. Do it for yourself. _Be happy. You deserve to be". _

Clark recoiled at hearing those words again, memories of Lois resurfacing.

Bruce fumbled across the table and flicked the blue switch. To their right, a large, inconspicuous vault opened, steam rolling in clouds down across the floor. The steam clearing, Clark stepped away from Bruce and towards the vault, eyes settling on a familiar S symbol.

"I created this a couple of years ago, but never had the chance to give it to you. The fabric is unique; Kevlar reinforced with adamantium-."

"Adamantium? That stuff only exists in comics."

Bruce chuckled. "Stan Lee certainly had the shock of his life when a squad of CIA agents turned up at his door one day. Apparently, he had come up with the name out of the blue; he never realized a meteorite full of the stuff had crashed in northern Utah a year earlier prior to his comic's publication. Scared the hell out of him and his wife I heard".

"Are its properties similar to those stated in the comics?"

"Even better", Bruce smirked. "I've never come across such a strong, yet versatile element before. Bonded perfectly with the Kevlar. Normally Kevlar is much too stiff and heavy to wear for humans, especially fused with the adamantium. Fortunately, you-."

"-aren't human. Thanks for the reminder." This time it was Clark's turn to smile. It was nice knowing that his best friend didn't treat him any differently to others. His humor was sorely needed at times like this.

"It resisted everything we threw at it. We even hired the USS Iowa out of commission to test out it's guns on it. Not a scratch".

"Surely that's a little excessive for a suit?" Clark's eyebrows were certainly raised now.

Bruce let out a deep, booming laugh at this, stopped by his cough again. Settling for a smile, he spoke softly.

"Nobody can deny a multi-billionaire on his deathbed a little fun here and there, can they?"

Clark relented, and changed into the strange, yet familiar sensation of the suit. It fitted perfectly. Leaving his old clothes neatly folded in a pile, he walked up the steps and strode onto the platform.

Bruce looked on with pride, tears threatening to form in his eyes. Clark was gone, and in his place, after all these years, finally stood Superman once again.

Once on the platform, Superman looked down into his hands, clenching and opening his fists, his muscles rippling through the suit. He turned to face Bruce.

"Thank you, Bruce. For everything."

"No Superman. Thank _you_."

They shared a last, knowing stare, before Bruce slowly pulled on the steel lever.

The bulbs around the room blinked rapidly, the huge contraption slowly whirring to life. The glass chamber slowly descended towards the chamber, sealing itself with a loud hiss. The whirring sound intensified and the lights in the room flickered at an increasingly fast rate. A loud bang and a bright light came from the chamber, and Bruce raised his arms to cover his eyes. For a second Bruce thought it had malfunctioned. An eerie silence permeated through the chamber, before Bruce slowly brought his arms down once the ringing in his ears finally stopped.

The glass chamber was empty. Superman was gone.

_"__Matter Transfer: Successful." _Alfred's automated voice intoned through the speakers. _ "Destination: Westeros."_

Westeros, huh? Bruce had never heard of it. _Good_. That meant potential enemies hadn't either.

Leaning back into his chair, Bruce placed a hand over his racing heart. It had been years since he felt this way. He reached into his dressing gown and pulled out a letter. A sad smile graced his face, before placing it onto the table. Etched into the envelope were the initials _K.W. _

_I'll just take a little rest here. Just for a few minutes. _Smiling, he breathed deeply, before slowly exhaling his last breath.

* * *

Kelly Wayne was tired. She had slept badly that night.

Her ailing adopted father was on her mind a lot recently; it was hard for the 21-year-old to lose the only person in her life she loved.

She was lucky and she knew it. Growing up with dad as well as her uncle, Clark, they taught her many lessons and gave her life experiences she had never even dreamt of prior to leaving the orphanage. Travelling the world with her dad's wealth and Clark's seemingly encyclopedic knowledge was always a blast.

In recent years though, she hadn't seen much of her uncle. Her dad told her that he'd gone through a rough time in his life recently, and he'd come around at some point.

He never did.

Running her slender fingers through her thick, auburn hair, she shook herself out of her thoughts and yawned, before walking down the corridor towards her father's room. She stopped as she saw the door was open.

_That's strange. Dad isn't usually up at this hour. _

She peered into the room, noticing that whilst the sheets were thrown to one side, the curtains were still shut. Dad had left in a hurry to go somewhere.

She turned around and made her way to the lift and was about to head to the ground floor to contact Sally, the butler, when she saw a key inserted into the 7th floor button. Curiosity getting the better of her, she twists it, before the lift doors closed.

A minute later, the doors open, and Kelly steps out wide-eyed into the Batcave. She walked slowly down the passageway, eyes now widening further, beyond belief at the batsuits and the command centre.

Slowly piecing together all of what she had seen in recent years; his long absences during the evenings, the mysterious bruises and scars, it became all too clear; Gotham's hero was none other than the enigmatic, reclusive billionaire, Bruce Wayne, but more importantly, her _dad_.

Mouth agape, she made her way down the passageway and through the open door into the Omega Chamber. Groaning when she saw her father in the chair, she gently shook him to wake him up, as she had done for all those years.

"Dad? We've got important visitors today from the government and the press. We can't afford to be la-." She froze when her hands brushed against his arm.

His skin was cold. Too cold.

Fear gripped her as she broke into a cold sweat, a pit of despair rapidly growing in her stomach".

"Dad?! DAD!" she screamed, holding the body of the most important person to her in her arms, his smile holding strong despite her tears.

* * *

Hours seemed to pass before she looked away from his face and towards the table. Her face red, she wiped the tears away and noticed two pagers on the table. One, a simple black and white pager, and the other the unmistakable colors of Superman. She picked the photo frame up and scrunched her face as she struggled to recognize the two women in the photo.

She left the letter to last. After reading it, the tears cascaded down her cheeks once again, having learned the truth.

The truth behind her father's mysterious illness.

The truth behind her uncle's sadness and their double lives.

The truth behind the two women in the photo.

She stood up, shaken by all of what she had learned, but she knew what had to be done.

Remembering what her father had told her in his last message to her, she carried her father's body to the door of the Omega Chamber. She halted and looked back once more to the letter and photo on the desk, before turning for the last time and closing the door. Reaching into the lift, she pulled the key from the 7th floor button and threw it into the rushing water beneath her, never to be found again.

As she emerged from the lift on the ground floor, she came face to face with an elderly man she had never seen before, but instantly recognized from his wizened eyes and her father's description of him.

"What are your orders, Madam Wayne?" Alfred asked softly, aware of Kelly's recent revelations.

Settling Bruce's body down gently, she stood up and looked him straight in the eye.

"Activate the Knightfall Protocol."

"Confirmation is required."

Hesitating for a second, she steeled herself before replying.

"Martha."

A small smile emerged from Alfred's mouth.

"Very well".

* * *

Bruce had designed the Batcave well. Well below the foundations of Wayne Manor and embedded in bedrock, it was a perfect place to conduct his escapades. Far below the manor, he ensured his ancestral home remained safe in case of any incidents which would take place in the Batcave, accident or not.

He was anything but dumb. Knowing that the peaceful world he had created with Clark could once again plunge into war if his inventions were ever discovered, he had created the Knightfall Protocol to self-destruct the Batcave should the order be given.

In this case, it was.

Loud, powerful explosions tore through the chamber, ripping the passageway to pieces and destroying the command center. All the iterations of the Batsuit were vaporized, ensuring no trace of the masked vigilante would ever see the light of dawn again.

However, the most powerful methods of removal were left for the Omega Chamber, with Batman having hard-wired the chamber with a quantum dismantler to ensure that truly nothing was left. By dismantling everything within its proximity down to an atomic level, it was the only way to prevent this technology from ever being discovered again.

The last thing to perish in the room was the photo. The edges of the photo collapsed in on itself, before the only thing left were the faces of Clark and Lois. After what seemed to be a struggle, even they too faded to nothing.


End file.
